


Hey, Maybe We Could Be Something?

by deadfrnk (SuckMyKilljoy)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-15 17:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2236614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuckMyKilljoy/pseuds/deadfrnk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Why are all your stories about running away?”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Because I very much want to– don’t you?”</i></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Frank Iero really didn’t expect much to come out of finding some scrawny blonde kid stuffed in his locker, especially not falling in love with said kid’s older brother… the one he didn’t yet even know existed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, yes. I'm starting a new story (not to mention the one I'm already 11 chapters into, but that's a whole other deal).  
> I felt like it had been way too long since I posted something, something that was actually, y'know, good. So I'm starting this new fic with the hopes that you will all enjoy it, and that I can give it a grand end (because we all know how disappointing my last fic's end was, trust me). Anyway, I hope to be updating once a week at least, most likely on weekends (that's actually how I got my first fic finished last year, believe it or not). Stay tuned, Frankie loves you.

 8-26-36

_Turn right two times, right, left– no, that’s not right– right?_

 “C’mon, man, please? It’s cramped in here… and I think, oh, gross, is that a sandwich? Legit, get me out of here now, you nasty fuck–”

 Frank rolled his eyes and tugged on the lock one last time, and he could hear his heavy sigh synch up with one from the boy in his locker as the catch finally gave and he was able to pull the lock out and open the door.

 He raised a flawless eyebrow at the mess of beanie and blonde and glasses tumbling out at him, and grunted, “That’s not any way to talk to your rescuer, now is it?”

 The blonde boy unfolded himself, and set his beanie straight and brushed imaginary crumbs from his shoulder all proper and haughty, and said, “You do not know the torture I’ve just been through.”

 Frank laughed, a snarky, clipped laugh, and said, “You don’t know much, do you?”

 Beanie Boy removed his glasses, wiped off some more imaginary dust, and then returned them to his face, as he said, “Not really. But more than you. At least I know how to properly open a lock.”

 Frank rolled his eyes and turned back to his locker, shutting it and all the while saying, “Well, I got you out, didn’t I?”

 The boy with the beanie and crooked glasses looked down then, almost ashamed, and said, “Yeah, uh, thanks.”

 Frank looked down his nose at the blonde boy (or more like up his nose, because he had the misfortune of being approximately shorter than 5/6 of the male population) and momentarily considered telling him off; because it had been a particularly shit day already and this dweeb was helping matters .0 percent– but he sighed again instead, and just said softly, “It’s cool man. I’ve been there, done that.”

 “I’m new,” the blonde muttered, the slight shyness still present in his voice. “Uh, I’m Mikey.” He dipped his head a bit, causing his glasses to fall down; and he pushed them up the bridge of his long, slightly upturned nose, only for them to fall down again.

 “Mikey?” Frank took in the boy’s entire appearance now; his beanie was gray, glasses black and big-framed, and he was wearing a hugely loose Misfits shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans, and gray Keds. Frank nodded to himself– he looked dorky enough to be a Mikey, he guessed.

 “Yeah, I–” the boy began to speak again, but Frank cut him off, throwing an open hand in his face.

 “I’m Frank Anthony Iero Jr.”

 Mikey blinked for a second, and cocked his head. “J– wait, what?”

 Frank lowered his hand, shoving it into the pocket of his gray Rude cords, and said, “You can just call me Frank.”

 “Okay, well, um–” Mikey ran a hand through his hair, knocking his beanie askew in the process, and ignoring Frank’s snort, continued, “Do you by any chance know where room D7 is? I think that’s… my next class, I don’t know, I lost my schedule–”

 “I indeed do,” Frank cut the blonde off. “Do you by any chance want to skip D7 and go smoke a joint with me behind the McD’s on 5th?”

 Mikey blushed, and more to himself stuttered out, “Gee would kill me…”

 Frank bit his lip. “So that’s a yes?”

 “Yeah.” 

 

* * *

 

 Frank let his head roll onto the blonde’s shoulder, red-tinted eyes raking up and down what he could see of the kid’s thin figure, and he said, “So where ’ya from?”

 “Belleville– pass it,” and Frank did, taking one last puff off the blunt before handing it off to Mikey, “My parents just got divorced, right? Well, I went with my dad, and Mom took–” and he stopped there, like that was the end, squinting as he turned to face Frank. “What about you?”

 “I’ve lived in Kearney a while,” Frank nodded. “Live with my mom. How old are you?”

 Mikey let out a breath of tainted air, and scrunched his face up like he was thinking. “Seventeen. You?”

 “Sixteen.” He watched as the older boy took the last breath of smoke from the joint, and said, “Shotgun me?”

 Mikey looked over at him, smoke still held in his lungs as he raised an eyebrow; and then he grabbed Frank’s jaw, and forced the boy’s lips open with his own, and exhaled slowly.

 “Thanks,” Frank said, scrunching his nose up at an imaginary itch as he let the smoke filter into his lungs, and then out through his nose in a rush. He watched as Mikey put out the roach on the cold cement underneath them, and then flicked it out across the alley, and then stretched, and leaned his head against the brick wall behind them. “You smoke often?”

 Mikey snorted at that, and rolled his eyes. “Never, never ever. I’m a good kid.” His voice was thick with sarcasm. “Never drink, never smoke, never fuck.”

 “Good,” Frank scoffed playfully. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin that grand, locker-worthy reputation.”

 “Anyone ever told you you’re a little shit?”

 “I gave you weed,” Frank countered, and Mikey rolled his eyes again.

 “’Ya shouldn’t have. Wouldn’t wanna ruin my locker-worthy reputation.”

 Frank turned his head to face the blonde boy. “Who put you in there?”

 “Fuck if I know,” the blonde retorted. “Tall, dark, and handsy, with douche friends Thing One and Thing Two.”

 “Did you mean “All of Queen of Peace High”?” Frank spoke in a generic “human computer” voice. “Yeah, I know them.”

 “They do the same to you?” Mikey looked over at the younger boy questioningly.

 “Not anymore. That’s newbie treatment. Once they find out your sexuality is a bit “off skew” you get it much worse. Or maybe you won’t have that problem. Maybe that’s just me.” Frank rolled his eyes and laughed humorlessly, and slunk down further against the cold brick behind him.

 “So… you’re..?” The older boy left a blank, as if to show he didn’t really want to impose, or assume anything.

 “Bi. Why? You gonna put me in my own locker?” Frank raised an eyebrow.

 “Nah, too stuffy in there. Gross and full of old sandwiches. I’m not that mean.” Mikey quipped.

 “Good.” Frank looked up at the sky then, which was just starting to turn the kind of sick gray-orange that New Jersey skies did at sunset. “Shit, what time is it?”

 Mikey blinked dumbly, before pulling his Sidekick out of his pants’ front pocket. “Wow, it’s 5:50, why?”

 The younger boy sat up rapidly, pushing himself off the cold asphalt before turning to the blonde boy, a bit frantic. “Shit, my mom wants me home by 6:00 sharp every day for dinner… oh, jeez… Here.” Frank held his hands out flat to help the other boy up. “Fuck, I gotta run, she’ll dismember me.” Frank scrunched his face up at that. “Ouch.”

 Mikey looked slightly down at the younger boy, who was still freaking out. “How far from here do you live?”

 “It’s like, a ten minute walk exactly. You? Oh, shit, do you even know how to get home?”

 Mikey laughed dully at that. “Yeah, dude. I live right over there–” He pointed in the general direction of some stereotypically Happy Family cul-de-sac that Frank vaguely recognized. “Um, so will I see you tomorrow, or–”

 “Yeah, at my locker just– fuck, okay, how high do I look?” Frank blinked rapidly at the blonde boy, as if he thought that that would somehow help his case.

 “Stoned off your ass,” Mikey said with slight disdain. “Why, can she not know?”

 “Ask yourself, “Would God approve?” and you’ll have your answer,” Frank clipped, obviously put out by this piece of news. He ran a hand through his hair then, and said, “Okay, need to sober up, uh– shit, I’m gonna do something really weird, and don’t kill me?”

 Mikey blinked, and didn’t really even have a chance to nod before the younger boy was pulling him in by his shirt and pressing their lips together.

 The blonde tried to say something along the lines of, “Wait, what?” that probably came out more like, “Ungh?” and gave the shorter boy clear access to deepen the kiss, moving his lips roughly yet slowly against the older boy’s.

 When Frank finally pulled away his eyes weren’t exactly any less red, but his entire face was, so it was much less noticeable. Mikey blinked hard, and went, “What?” and Frank gave him a sheepish grin and a shrug, before running off, yelling, “Later!” over his shoulder.

 Mikey scrunched his face up in confusion as he watched the younger boy run away; and then he shrugged himself, and straightened his glasses, and turned toward home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all whoops that this is so short, sorry I know I'm crying too, secondly, at least I updated, that's all I have to say, my bed literally smells like gay boys, gotta love my friends, and now I'm going to bed because absolutely fuck, I have school tomorrow.

“Hey Frankie?”

The younger boy looked up from his sandwich and cocked a curious eyebrow. “Hmm?”

Mikey rolled his eyes at the chipmunk cheeks his new friend was sporting. “What’s D7 anyway? I have it after lunch and you never really did tell me yesterday.”

“Oh,” Frank said around a mouthful of some mock turkey/cheese thing. Mikey didn’t know; vegetarians were weird. The younger boy continued, “That’s PE.”

“What?” Mikey paled, and set his own lunch down. “No, I’m sure I didn’t put PE on my schedule when I transferred…”

Frank shrugged. “I dunno man. But hey, I got D7 too next period, so it won’t be all that bad. I think we’re just starting the volleyball unit.”

“Fuck, no Frank you really don’t get it, I can’t–” but the bell rang, cutting the blonde boy off. Frank hopped up from the lunch table and held one hand out to Mikey, the other taking a poor aim at throwing his trash away.

“It won’t be so bad, c’mon.”

Mikey nodded warily, and let the younger boy help him up; but he didn’t say anything the rest of the way to the gym.

 

“Alright boys, get dressed down and pumped up, we’re playing some mean volleyball today!” The coach, Mr. Williams’, loud booming voice could be heard through the entire locker room, ratting off the old lockers and ricocheting into its occupants’ ears.

Mikey still looked a bit nervous, but Frank didn’t really notice as he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt at the same time. 

“Way! I see you over there, don’t think I don’t. Dress down or ten laps, a deduction, and a detention. Your choice.”

“But, Mr.–” Mikey was cut off by Mr. Williams yelling a last, “Your choice!” before exiting the locker room altogether.

Frank shot his new friend a sympathetic look. “Hey, I can cover ya if you want,” he shrugged. There was a quick jeer of the word, “Fag!” from one of the boys leaving the locker room, to which Frank retorted, “Never knew you were, Harvey.”

He turned back to Mikey then. “Will that work for you? Like man, if you got body issues, don’t worry, I won’t even look. Plus, most’a everyone’s leaving already, it won’t be that bad.”

Mikey looked like he was going to give up more of a protest, but when he looked around and saw that, indeed, he and Frank were about the only two remaining in the locker room, he gave in. “Okay,” he said. 

Frank grinned. “Sweet. Here, lemme grab my shirt–” but when he turned around, the blonde boy had his shirt already lifted halfway over his head, and Frank saw what he was so worried about in the first place.

Along the curve of the older boy’s pale, flat stomach were a myriad protruded red scars, some obviously much longer, and deeper– and newer. Frank lowered his arms and sighed, and stepped forward– and Mikey sent him a questioning look as the younger boy bent down, and began to place his lips on each scar.

“Why?”

Mikey laughed humorlessly, and lowered his shirt. “If I told you, you’d run away.”

“So what? I’d take you with me,” Frank grinned. “All the best stories end with running away.”

“Don’t make me fall in love with you now, Iero,” Mikey joked. Frank smiled to see how quickly the spark had returned into his new friend’s eyes.

“I’ll try, but I’ve heard my charm is just so hard to resist,” the younger boy teased. He then pulled the blonde into a tight hug, and said, “You gotta promise that you’ll stop, okay? Or at least, you gotta promise that you’ll try.”

Mikey sighed, and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and pressed his nose into the shorter boy’s brown curls. 

Frank pulled away after a bit, and began to change back into his clothes. Mikey watched with a curious eyebrow raised, and asked, “Frank..?”

“We’re getting out of here, c’mon.” Frank had finished changing and he slung his backpack over his shoulder, shutting and locking his locker. Mikey rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be fine, trust me. I mean, you’re the only one who’s gonna see them now, anyway–”

“I don’t care. We’re not even gonna get high this time, okay? Just,” he reached out and pulled the blonde boy’s arm playfully. “C’mon, come with me.”

Mikey sighed; but he grabbed his bag, and shut his locker, and didn’t think about it at all when Frank grabbed his hand, or stood on his tip-toes to kiss the taller boy– and he didn’t think about anything, not really.

He’d gotten pretty good at that.


	3. Chapter 3

_“So how’s school?”_

Mikey rolled his eyes. Of course that would be the first question. “It’s good. I’ve only been in three days now.”

_“I know. I just thought I’d ask. I don’t think Dad’s asking.”_

“He hasn’t been,” Mikey sighed, as he could hear the literal shrug off the other end of the call. “Thanks. Um, yeah.” He stopped and looked to Frank, who was sat across from him half off the old maroon couch, fast asleep. “I made a friend.”

_“Really? That’s great, Honey.”_

Mikey scrunched his face up at the name. “Yeah, he’s cool. Uh, I got high with him.”

_“Michael James–”_

“Don’t,” Mikey said quietly, “Uh, please? I don’t want to have this discussion over the phone.”

 _“Okay,”_ and there was a sigh. _“Ah, how’s he like? What’s his name?”_

“He’s right next to me,” Mikey said, and glanced back to his sleeping friend. “He’s uh, asleep.” There was a long pause as the blonde contemplated what to say, and then, “He’s short. Uh, and he’s got brown hair, and hazel eyes and he reminds me of you a lot, I guess.”

_“That’s not good, Mikey. You shouldn’t be hanging out with people like me.”_

“He’s not _like_ you,” the blonde boy protested. “He reminds me of you, and that’s it.” Mikey paused again, and then, “I miss you so fucking much.”

_“I know, kiddo. Only a couple more months.”_

“But, Mom said–”

_“I know what Mom said, and I know she doesn’t want me to see you sooner either, despite what she said. Mikey, she’s not going to take you to visit me. She can’t. Dad took you, and she’s not in charge of you anymore.”_

“That’s fucked up,” Mikey whined. “Why couldn’t she have taken me instead?”

_“You love Dad, Mikes. It’s not so bad.”_

“I love _you_. There’s a difference. Dad’s not you. Fuck, _Mom_ isn’t you, and neither is Frank.”

_“Frank?”_

“Yeah, that’s my friend.” Mikey shrugged pointlessly, and repeated, “He reminds me of you.”

 _“He sounds like a fuck up,”_ and then there was a laugh, and Mikey laughed too.

“Yeah, he could be. He’s got a God-fearing mom, and he kissed me. He’s sixteen.”

 _“He kissed you?”_ Mikey nodded, although he knew this was also pointless. _“And he reminds me of you?”_

“Um, yes. Gosh, don’t be gross–”

_“Haha, you want to kiss me.”_

“I didn’t say that.”

 _“I know. Don’t worry, I don’t want to kiss you either.”_ There was a pause, and a lot of rustling. _“God, do I miss you though. I hate it here. Never end up in rehab, Mikey. God, and you tell your friend Frank he better not end up in rehab either. No one wants to be here. No one has life. I’m given white crayons to draw and no paper, and no fucking bourbon either, and no meds. And it sucks.”_

“They’re just trying to make you better,” Mikey sighed sadly. “God, why can’t you get better sooner?”

_“You know I’m trying.”_

“Try harder.” The blonde tried to put a tone of humor in his voice, but it only came out sounding defeated and sad.

 _“Okay, kiddo. I will for you.”_ More rustling, and then, _“Shit, I gotta go, call time’s up. Oh, shit I love you.”_

“I know, I love you too.”

_“No, but I mean it, Mikey. April and I’m getting you out, and I’m taking you and we’re gonna fucking run, okay? You can come live with me and everything will be okay. I love you so fucking much.”_

Mikey sighed. “I love you too, Gee.”

_“Bye kiddo. Kisses and hugs.”_

Mikey smiled sadly, and bit his lip. “Night, Gerard.”

And then the line went dead.

Mikey looked down at his phone and sighed, and threw it onto Frank’s mother’s nice mahogany coffee table and he sank back on the old maroon couch, and turned his head toward Frank and called, “Wake up, asshole.”

Frank shot up in two seconds, looking around wildly. “Huh? What I miss?”

The blonde rolled his eyes. “Nothing. You fell asleep right when the chick was getting slashed.”

“Aw, man!” Frank sat back in defeat. “But that’s my favorite part!” And then he yawned.

“I know, I tried to wake you up but you weren’t having it. I had to entertain myself. I stole your water and read your journal and made myself a sandwich, and took a shower, and got the post, and fed the dog, and–”

“Okay, I get it, don’t be a bitch.” And Frank leaned over then, and pressed himself into the older boy’s side, and asked as nonchalantly as one could manage, “Who’s Gee?”

Mikey looked over to the younger boy, and for a while he said nothing. And then he took a deep breath, and he said, “He’s no one.”

Frank looked unamused; but he shrugged, and brushed it off with seconds to spare by reaching over the blonde boy for the remote wedged underneath the couch cushion. “Wanna watch another one?”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know I said that I was going to make this next chapter a hell of a lot longer, and I totally didn't and I hate myself for it because I really hate small chapters, especially if you have to wait as long as a week for my lazy ass to update. This was kind of a filler anyway, which is why it was so short, but also it gave background to the story that I feel was definitely needed for anything to progress anywhere. It explains shit, for those who were curious.  
> Okay, so because this chapter was so short (and I updated so early) you guys MAY be lucky enough to get a second update later today. Don't get your hopes up too high, because I still have no fucking idea where this story is going, really (I'll have to come up with it as I go, whoops) but I might write some after I wake up and actually start my Sunday. So there's that. Okay I love all of you, thanks so much for your kudos and the comments, even though this story is literally going nowhere fast so far. xoxo Frankie loves you.  
> EDIT: lmao whoops this chapter is kind of written as if Mikey and Gee were in a relationship which oH MY GOD NO so don't worry about that. There will be more information later on the rehab thing, and the running thing, and the parent divorce thing. Trust me. And absolutely no incest. Just brotherly love.  
> Gosh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry if this sucks, it was a total rush (because I have a computer curfew of nine now on school nights, and I still have to type up a paper for E10) but hey, I did give you guys a longer chapter, that kinda moves the plot along a bit. Yay, we meet Pete! And he's a fucking dork.  
> Anyway, yeah. Expect a chapter next Sunday, but if one's not up, forgive me I was in Oregon meeting Frank. Xoxo to you all.

“Oh, shit!” Frank looked around as he bumped into something jutting out near the doorway. It looked like a lamp of some sort. Anyway, he didn’t want to knock it off the table, and—

“Frank, shut the fuck up, my dad’s home. We have to be quiet–” But there was a low sound then, like a creak, and Mikey stopped abruptly, sending the shorter boy bumping directly into the back of him.

“Mikey. You’re home.”

The blonde boy muttered under his breath, and started wringing his hands. Frank set the lamp down carefully on the table– he looked like he was ready to melt into the floor.

“He called.”

Mikey swallowed, and sighed, “Yeah, I know, dad–”

Mr. Way had a stone-cold look on his face as he said his next words, “I don’t want to talk to him, Mikey, and I fucking don’t want you talking to him either, not anymore.”

“Dad, I can’t–”

“I don’t want you to fucking talk to him, ever again, and certainly not under this household! Do you get that? I don’t want you to have anything to do with him!”

Mikey bristled at his father’s words, and his shoulders slumped. “But– mom said–”

“I don’t care what she said. I don’t fucking care. You’re not talking to him anymore, you’re not going to see him, this isn’t okay!” Mr. Way looked really angry now. Frank was concerned as to whether this was how the man always acted– he’d mentally blame it on the guy being drunk, but there wasn’t a bottle in sight.

“Dad–”

“Just get what you need and get out, Mikey,” Mr. Way sighed, and he looked almost remorseful for a second, before his voice turned sharp again. “Now!”

“Okay, fuck, I’m sorry!” The blonde boy threw his hands up in the air, a look of pure defeat on his face. “You know what, fuck this.” He grabbed Frank’s wrist then, and yanked the younger boy out of the house behind him, calling back, “Fuck you for ever thinking anything, dad. I’m going to live with him and I sure as fuck am never coming back!” as he slammed the door.

The two teens got about as far as the end of the cul-de-sac before the taller boy whipped around, and buried his face in Frank’s neck and began bawling. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” the younger boy said softly, and he ran a hand up and down the blonde’s back. “It’s okay, don’t cry.”

“It’s not, it’s fucking not. He thinks I–” A shudder ran through the older teen. “He– God, fuck. It’s not okay.”

“Okay, shh, alright. Trust me, hey?” Frank lifted the older boy’s head up to face him. “I don’t care, alright? Whatever it is he thinks, I don’t care. I’m not gonna care. It’s gonna be okay, I’m gonna be here, hey?” He watched as Mikey scrunched his face up a bit, like he was trying not to sneeze, before he broke down again, and Frank pulled him back into a hug. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.”

He let his hand slip down to the older boy’s, and he took it, running his thumb softly over the knuckles. “I’m right here. It’s gonna be fine. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

 

“And he arrives!” Frank called flamboyantly, as he walked into the small corner shop, Mikey in tow. There was rustling for a bit behind the counter, and a muffled, “Frankie?” before some boy approximately 1.5 inches taller than Frank himself popped over the counter. “Frankie! Babe, I missed you.”

“Pete?” Frank dropped his grip around the blonde boy’s arm, and stepped forward a bit. “You’re back from rehab?”

The slightly taller boy launched himself over the checking counter, and scooped Frank up in a tight hug. “Little punk, I missed you so much!” And he began peppering ridiculously sloppy kisses to the younger’s neck, which caused Frank to giggle quietly, shoving the older boy away.

“Petey, we have company,” he blushed, and then turned to Mikey, who looked less than unimpressed, very lost, and very sad, standing still under the doorway to the shop. “Aw, come over here,” Frank pouted, and quickly retrieved the older boy. “It’s okay, this is just my friend Pete. Pete,” he said, and turned to the short teen, “This is Mikey.”

“Oi, Mikey? Huh, that’s funny. My temp roomie always talked about a ‘Mikey’. Said like he was the greatest thing on the planet, this kid, nothing could hold a candle to this kid. Maybe you know him?”

Mikey looked down at that, and shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t know him.”

“Mikes doesn’t know anybody in the druggie slammer, he’s a good kid,” Frank joked; but when he saw the flash of something different in his friend’s eyes, he stopped laughing.

“Hey, this guy was a good guy too. Artist, great guy. He had hair the color of the ocean. Always thought blue was such a weird color, but not on him. He was pretty fine, man. It’d grown out mostly by the time I left. Shame I can’t remember his name…” Pete trailed off, reminiscing in his own head, and Frank rolled his eyes.

“Nobody wants to hear about the ass you got in rehab, Wentz,” he grinned. “Fuck, did I mis you though.”

“I know, kid,” Pete smirked, and ruffled Frank’s hair. “I hear the shop just hasn’t been the same without me.” He turned to Mikey then, who was looking much more interested in the prices of bargain toothpicks on the checkout. “So, what’s your deal, kid? You got an age above illegal?”

Mikey blushed, and his eyes widened. “I’m– no, I’m seventeen.”

“Shame as shit, you’re hot,” the oldest whined, and rolled his eyes.

“That doesn’t stop you from harassing me,” Frank mock-pouted.

“Yeah, but you like it too much,” Pete grinned. “You don’t count.”

“Whatever.” Frank pushed Pete away then, and went back to Mikey, wrapping his arms around the tall boy. “He doesn’t mean shit, he’s just having fun,” Frank promised, and nuzzled his face into the blonde’s neck. “Anyway, Pete? We’re gonna go. It’s so good to see you back though, baby. I miss you so much.”

“Alright, little dude. You keep that one safe, eh? And tell him to hit me up when he reaches of legal age!”

“Whatever, Pete. We’re leaving.”

“I love you, baby!”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Sorry,” Frank said, turning to Mikey once they’d left the shop. “He really does mean well.”

“It’s no big deal,” Mikey shrugged. “You said he was in rehab, though?”

“Yeah, not for drugs though. He was at the joint down in.. some place, I can’t remember, for recovery of suicide. I wonder was the guy he was talking about in for the same reasons then? He said they shared a room…” Frank shrugged it off then, and smirked at the blonde. “Eh, who gives. C’mon, kiddo, I gotta show you around town.”

Mikey smiled then, and nodded– although Frank didn’t see that it didn’t quite reach the blonde’s eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this is so short, and so behind schedule (and so error-filled, most likely). This story is gonna be really random on updates, and this is a complete filler. I wish I could dedicated my all to fanfic, but life is being a bitch right now. Read on, guys. xok

“Pete?”

The shorter man looked over the counter, and grinned. “Frankie, hey! S’up, my little man?”

Frank would have made a joke about how he really was probably almost taller than Pete, and so the height comments were pretty much invalid, but he just furrowed his eyebrows, and said, “When you were in rehab, you met this guy, right?”

“Uh, yeah?” Pete hopped over the counter, leaning forward on his arms and cocking his head. “Why?”

“Well, I’m only curious for Mikes’ sake, I mean– you said that guy, he knew a Mikey? Well, I think that might be my Mikey, and I’m only concerned because–” Frank stopped. “Well, anyway, what’d’ya know?”

Pete nodded. “Ah, okay I get ya. Okay, so this guy, about 25 but I could be way off, maybe he wasn’t even 20. He comes in one day, and he’s my roomie, right? Nice piece of ass but he’s odd, right, like he never got enough sleep as a kid, permanent bags under his eyes. He’s an artist. He’s always dying his hair with whatever he can find, and he doesn’t talk much. But, he was a pretty decent guy. His art was amazing, man, he drew hyperrealistic photos of any and everything. Pretty cool.” Pete rocked back on the counter. “But, he was in there for a reason, right? Pill popper. He was addicted to some kind of prescription drug, and alcohol, bad. He had scars up and down his forearms, pretty nasty like he’d tried more than enough times. And, he always talked about a kid named Mikey. I think, it was his brother, or something. But man, this guy, he adored that kid Mikey. Always praise, and he’d turn to me and say, “Pete, I swear I’m gonna get out, and I’m gonna take him away and we’re gonna be happy, you hear me?” like that was his only life goal, to take that kid away and protect him. Man, he must have really loved that kid.”

Frank looked about in contemplation. “Well, is that all you know?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry kid. One day, this guy, my roommate, he just up and gets moved, to the crazies ward. He was doing fine in our rehab, but I guess the chiefs thought otherwise. It was too bad, I never knew his name– oh, wait yeah, yeah I remember. I mean not all of it, but I remember I called him G once. It was a G-something name. Anyway, he got pretty testy about that, I guess it was only something that Mikey kid called him. That’s really all I know though, little man. Sorry I can’t be of more help.” Pete shook his head and hopped off the counter.

“Well, thanks anyway Pete, a lot. I just gotta think about it more, and I’ll ask Mikes later.”

“Hey, Frankie? Do you really think it could be the same kid? Well, I mean isn’t that Mikey character kind of afraid to talk about whoever it is? Why would he be so afraid if this ‘Gee’ guy loves him so much?” Pete asked, turning back to face Frank.

Frank shrugged. “I don’t think he’s afraid of him, I think he’s trying to protect him. Whoever it is, Mikes’ dad wasn’t too happy about the kid at all.” Frank looked down then, and said, “Shit, I told him I was making a run for my jacket, he’s still at the park waiting. Well, thanks babe, I’ll catch you later!”

“Yeah, you too, kid,” Pete called as Frank left the shop. “But Frankie, don’t be bothering where you aren’t wanted. You never know what kind of shit you find.”


End file.
